Forgive & Regret

by Kaitlyn Cross

  Adding some more ingredients, he kneaded the dough with his hands. “Out in the western burbs, still live in the same house I grew up in.”

  “What do they do?”

  Roman stopped for a drink of his beer that left powdery fingerprints on the bottle. “They’re retired now but Dad used to be a vascular surgeon. Back in the nineties, they called him the Worm-man.”

  She scrunched her nose up. “That’s kind of gross.”

  He wiped his hands on the kitchen towel draped over his shoulder. “It is.”

  “What about your mom?”

  Turning, he held up a bottle of beer in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other. “Beer or wine?”

  Stella squinted at the wine, her pulse rate rising. “Is that a nineteen ninety-four bottle of Latour?”

  A slow moving smile traveled across his lips. “Ah, you know your wine, too,” he said, retrieving a corkscrew. “Impressive.”

  She proudly smiled inside. Stella Talvert knew a six hundred dollar bottle of wine when she saw it.

  “My mom was a stay at home mom and now they mostly travel,” he continued. “They’re in London right now.” He pulled the cork out with a loud pop that ricocheted off the hard walls.

  “Brothers or sisters?”

  He flattened his lips and shook his head, watching the wine gurgle into an oversized glass. “My mom said I was so fussy the first two years they couldn’t bear to have another.”

  She sighed softly against the back of the couch, watching the way the fabric of his slacks pulled against his ass when he turned to the fridge. Suddenly, she wanted to know more about him. Everything he just told her was a total tease, an appetizer before the main course. She wanted the dirt. Like the stuff she dumped on him. “Why do you live all alone in such a big place?”

  He poured another glass of wine and looked up. “I like to show off.”

  This brought a curl to her lips. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  His laughter was infectious, lulling her into a true sense of security. She threw caution to the wind as he came around the island and handed her a wineglass. Stella took a slow sip, watching him over the rim of her glass, savoring the juicy notes of black cherry and cocoa on her tongue. “Very nice.”

  Kissing her softly, he went back into the kitchen and flattened the dough.

  She sipped her wine over the back of the couch, a slow burn heating her insides, and watched him toss the dough into the air like a modern day pizzaiolo. “Tell me a secret,” she said.

  He caught the dough in both hands and draped it over a floured cooking stone. “Then it wouldn’t be a secret.”

  She pressed her lips together into a thin line as he molded the crust. “Come on, Roman. I’ve told you waaay too much and you’ve hardly told me anything about yourself.”

  His face soured. “I just told you about my parents.”

  “Come on, tell me something that isn’t so…perfect.”

  He stopped for a long drink of wine, his eyes all over her.

  Assessing her.

  Undressing her.

  Stella watched him watch her, the quiet bleeding the air from the room. The oven beeped, startling her.

  Roman lowered his somber gaze to the counter. “My wife left me for my ex-partner four years ago.”

  The air rushed back into the room, filling Stella’s lungs with a sharp woosh. “You’re divorced?”

  He snapped his fingers. “Oh, and I’ve also murdered seven people. What else do you want to know?”

  She couldn’t close her mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “I thought you’d call the police.”

  Her laughter rose to the tall ceilings. “Come on, I’m trying to be serious. Why didn’t you tell me you were divorced?”

  He lifted a shoulder to an ear, opening a can of pizza sauce. “I like to focus on the positive in life.”

  The excessive condo all made sense now. The great Roman Weathers took a major hit and was trying to prove his self-worth in the face of defeat. Stella snorted. When that happened to her, she just bought a new purse...and then ruined the professor’s life.

  Rule number six: Always pick the purse and revenge over the ice cream and TV – unless of course, you like buying all new jeans.

  “Wait, she left you for your ex-partner?”

  Roman spooned red sauce onto the dough. “At our old clinic we used to own together.”

  “That is hard to believe, Roman.”

  “Came as a bit of a shock to me too.”

  Stella got quiet. “How old are you anyway?”

  He looked up. “Thirty.”

  “Dirty thirty? So when you were in high school I was playing with sidewalk chalk.”

  “You don’t have to rub it in.”

  “And you didn’t know she was cheating on you with your partner?”

  “Not until she told me,” he said, spreading the sauce around with the back of the spoon. He stopped and looked up, exhaling a long breath. “The year before that, I came up with a new procedure to repair cleft lips with minimal scarring that got a little press in some medical journals. All of the sudden, these hospitals and clinics and universities were throwing money at me to come and speak at their annual conventions, or graduations, or Christmas parties, or whatever. Next thing I knew, I was gone all of the time and...my partner, Chad, wasn’t.”

  Stella wet her lips, wondering how he found out. “I’m sorry.”

  He tossed a pepperoni slice at her like a Frisbee, making her duck. “Water under the bridge.”

  She watched him slice green olives, pushing back her inner voice with both hands, telling herself to mind her own damn business. But her inner voice was too strong to contain. “Are they still together?”

  He stopped the knife and studied his work, the fridge humming in the silence crawling between them. “I just found out she’s pregnant.”

  Stella clapped a hand over her mouth, immediately regretting the loud slap it made in the gaping room.

  Roman gave her a thin smile and started back up with the knife.

  “I hate cheaters.”

  Void of expression, he sprinkled olives on the pizza like fairy dust over a sleeping child. She waited for a witty remark that never came, trying to imagine the hurt he must have felt.

  “What was her name?”

  He filled his chest with air and blew it out, working up the courage to speak the unspeakable. “Jessica.”

  Stella wrinkled her nose and took a slow drink of her wine that melted on her tongue. “I knew there had to be something.”

  His eyes ravished her from across the room. The foreplay had begun.

  Stella emptied her glass. “You and your baggage, Roman Weathers. I just don’t know what to think.”

  “Ha-ha,” he said dryly, finishing the pizza off with an entire bag of shredded mozzarella. “You’re one to talk.”

  “Do you have a picture of her?” she asked, pressing the issue.

  “Sorry, burned them all.”

  She giggled a little, thinking of her mother for the first time in what felt like ages, wondering if Hank burned the pictures of her as well. “Tell me more about this procedure that got into the medical journals.”

  After sliding the pizza into the oven, Roman set a timer and brought the bottle of Latour into the living room. “Once a year, I spend three weeks in a remote location in South Africa,” he said, sitting next to her and filling her glass, “where I work with an incredible group of people called Operation Smile South Africa.” He leaned back and stretched his arm along the back of the couch. “We basically provide free surgeries to repair cleft lip, cleft palate, and other facial deformities for children in need.”

  Her eyes gave her admiration away. “You are a saint.”

  “It helps a guy sleep at night.”

  “And that’s where you invented this new procedure?”

  “No, it was a few months after my second visit. I was taking a shower and it just popped into my hea
d out of nowhere.” He stared at the fireplace through distant eyes. “I think right before that I’d been thinking about ordering Chinese for dinner.”

  Stella chuckled, the heat of his fingers on her neck. “Well, you are just full of surprises tonight.” She stopped to sharpen her gaze. “Are you making this up? Because you had me at the parking garage.”

  Roman smiled before leaning in and kissing her, soaking her in through his deprived lips. Flames danced with the music in the background, the smell of pizza in the air. In his arms, Stella forgot who she was and what she’d become. She forgot the horrors lurking in the back of her mind, waiting to pounce the moment she fell weak.

  But best of all, she forgot about Sawyer.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The town twinkled below them as steam rose from the Jacuzzi like freed spirits. Roman’s skin was warm and slippery against Stella’s side, the six hundred dollar bottle of wine worth every damn penny. And Roman was up for the challenge alright; the pizza was delicious. Her eyes ran over his muscular chest as she wondered if he would be up for her next challenge. He stared back with that confident gleam in his eyes, answering her question without a word.

  “I’m glad you’re here.” His eyes slid to her nipples bobbing on the surface of the water.

  Her hand slid up his thigh. “Me too.”

  He kissed her again, flinching when her fingers accidentally brushed against his cock. Her breath came faster when his lips found her wet neck and nibbled at the sensitive spot just below her ear. Her racing breath floated away with the steam. She gazed at the buildings across from them. It felt like the whole world was watching and she loved it.

  Stella pushed him back and swung a leg over him, assuming the top. The stars glittered in Roman’s warm eyes when he smiled up at her. Blood pounded in her ears, the need in her gut moaning with want. Slowly, she settled into his lap, trembling with his invasion. Roman’s face stiffened. An office light turned on across the way. The wind licked at their wet skin, the hot tub spinning in slow circles. Arching her back, she rode faster in his lap and stared at the stars above, losing herself in the moment. Nothing existed but him. He made her forget everything else. His lips devoured her breasts, tuning her body to his wants and needs. She would stay here forever if she could, loving him for all the world to see. It would be easy. Easier than going back home.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Stella woke up to find the morning light creeping into the room and Roman gone from the bed. Her heart sputtered in her chest with images of the night before surging through her mind. She sat up, wincing with the dull ache in her head. She checked the clock on the nightstand and exhaled a tired breath. It was late. After giving his neighbors a lengthy show in the Jacuzzi, they stayed up all night talking about the past and dreams of the future, before making love on the couch, the living room floor and finally in his bed. She drank him in, unable to douse the fire burning inside. Everything about him was infectious: His smile, his laughter, and those piercing eyes that made her weak in the knees.

  She took her phone from the nightstand and cringed when she read Sawyer’s missed texts from Vicky’s birthday party last night. But they were forgotten as she set the cell phone down and scanned Roman’s bedroom. She hadn’t seen in the light until now and it was in such perfect order Stella felt guilty for smearing mascara on his pillows – but not that guilty. She fell back into the big pillows, a complacent breath rushing from her mouth. Then it hit her like a sledgehammer. She wanted to watch him at work. Last night left her realizing how little she really knew about Roman Weathers, how one-sided their relationship really was with her drama always getting in the way. She craved more. And not just the toe-curling sex, but the little things as well. Does he take his coffee black? Or with sugar and cream? Does he even drink coffee? What movies does he like? Books? Music? Does he have a sweet tooth? Where did he go to school to get this far? And most of all…what does his crazy ex-wife look like?

  Stella needed to know.

  It clawed at her insides.

  Was Jessica a blonde like her?

  Was that his type?

  Her eyes searched the room for a picture she knew wasn’t there. At least, she hoped it wasn’t there. She brushed wild strands of hair from her face, wondering what other secrets he was hiding.

  The bedroom door opened. She turned to see Roman poke his sexy bed head inside the room. “Morning, sunshine.”

  “Hey you,” she said, sitting up and clutching a soft sheet with a high thread count to her naked chest.

  He came in wearing flannel pajama bottoms with a big tray of wonderful smelling food and flowers pressed against his bare chest.

  Her mouth got round. “What’s this?” she asked, smelling the yellow flowers when he set the tray down next to her.

  “This is your May Day basket,” he said, pulling a silver top off a plate to reveal cheesy scrambled eggs and sausage links.

  Her eyelids flipped back into her head, the smell alone making her stomach growl. “Oh. My. God.” She watched him pull the lid off a giant stack of blueberry pancakes with globs of butter sliding across them. Her curious gaze rose to find his eyes. “You made all of this?”

  He poured a glass of orange juice from a tall, narrow pitcher. “Called in the pros at the restaurant downstairs for this one,” he said, rubbing his head. “I can’t see straight. I think we drank too much last night.” He paused to reflect. “Or not enough.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Wait, don’t you have to operate on somebody today?”

  He kissed her on the mouth. “It’s just a little Botox, and that’s not until three. I’ll be fine.”

  “Hold on,” she said as his words slowly penetrated her thick skull. “It’s May?”

  His lips ran down her neck. “The pool is heated if you want to go for a swim later.”

  “Can I come with you today?” she whispered.

  Roman climbed under the covers and settled between her legs. “Come with me where?”

  “To your clinic and watch you work on...”

  “Mrs. Bolderdash?” he said, kissing her again. “That’s probably not a good idea. She’s a bit of a perfectionist. Don’t think she’d be up for spectators, but after I’m done I am going to take you to the finest restaurant in town for dinner.”

  “I just want to see you in action at your work; I won’t get in the way.” She batted her long lashes at him. “I promise.”

  He tipped his chin down and pressed his lips into a thin line. “Maybe some other time, gorgeous.”

  *****

  Roman squirted clear liquid from the end of a long syringe and jerked his playful eyes to Stella. She smiled beneath her blue mask. He looked handsome in his black lab coat and skin tight gloves. She tried not to imagine him fucking her in the chair Mrs. Bolderdash was leaning back in between them, but after this morning, it was an impossible task. This man took her to new heights and she wanted to go higher. She wanted to look over the edge. Right here, in this laid back chair.

  “So tell me, Stella,” the woman with too brown of hair said, a bright light above exposing the aged lines in her face like rings in a tree. “How did you get so lucky to land a job working for Dr. Weathers here?”

  Stella cleared her throat. “I was at the top of my class.”

  Mrs. Bolderdash grinned at Roman. “He’s got an eye for talent, this one.”

  Roman held his hand out. “Scalpel,” he said sternly, glancing at Stella.

  Mrs. Bolderdash laughed and slapped Roman’s leg. “Very funny,” she said, turning to Stella with a serious look replacing her smile. “I can’t believe the wolves in this town haven’t snatched him up yet. Man is a genius,” she whispered, blinking her fake lashes. “Did you know he was in National Geographic?”

  Stella looked up to find Roman smiling back.

  “Right behind a nice little article on UFO’s,” he said modestly, dabbing the older woman’s forehead with a wet cotton ball.

  “I’ve always
admired his work,” Stella replied, wanting him to take her right now in her blue scrubs and mask.

  Mrs. Bolderdash curled her bony fingers around Roman’s wrist and lowered her voice. “You need to slow down and smell the roses once in a while, Doctor. It is spring after all.”

  He stood over her with the syringe in his hand. “For your information, I just leased a lake house in Cottage Grove.”

  Her penciled-in eyebrows rose into her brow. “Good for you! That is such a beautiful area. My husband used to take me to the Tastee-Freez on the lake every Sunday in the summer.” Her gaze wandered out the large window in the room, a wistful sigh seeping from her red lips. “Oh, to be young again.”

  “Your wish is my command.” Roman flicked the end of the syringe. “Only three shots today so let’s make them count, huh?”

  She smiled coyly. “The number of injections isn’t as important as the person injecting you.”

  “So I hear,” he said, slipping the needle beneath the skin and pressing the plunger.

  Upon finishing the injection, Mrs. Bolderdash turned to Stella, who was quietly readying the blue towel he instructed her on. “The man is a gifted genius and I simply won’t let anyone else touch me.”

  Stella looked up and met Roman’s awaiting eyes, grinning behind her mask. Me too, she thought. Me too.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  FOUR WEEKS LATER

  The image of Roman’s body tattooed itself into Stella’s mind and there was no erasing it. Nor was there any need. He looked delicious in nothing but his boxers and glasses on her laptop last night. When she got her hands on him tomorrow night, things were going to get naughty. Very naughty. She exhaled a pensive breath through her vision, blurring it like blacktop on a hot July day.

  “Stella? Hello?”

  Stella blinked back to reality and turned to Wendy, who was sitting next to her at a big round table for six. “Huh?”

  “Your eyes just glazed over.”

  Stella glanced at Jase behind the bar. “They did?”